


the little ice soldier

by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Family Feels, Family Fluff, Introspection, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9473024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitsugi_Zirkus/pseuds/RennieOnIceCream
Summary: “You’re a tough one, Yurochka,” his grandpa finally murmured. “You never slip, on or off the ice. I can’t wait to see how much stronger you’ll become.”Before Yuri even had a name for his unconditional love, he knew why he fought so hard for the right to skate.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mofspades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mofspades/gifts).



> Hello there! Maru has kindly commissioned me for this piece! It focuses on our favorite Russian punk, Yuri! I had a lot of fun writing this one, and it reminded me just why Yuri is such a good seed ;_; And well, you have a lot of depictions of Yuri with his skating family, and I think it's important to remember the man Yuri treasures most -- his supportive grandpa <3
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys the read and some soft Yurio~

The ice was not forgiving.

But it was solid, it was _fierce_ , it was a force of nature that would either pave the way for him to dance to the heavens or to come crashing painfully down.

Yuri Plisetsky skated to be as unyielding as the ice, but he didn’t skate at all for forgiveness; he skated for the right to be on top, the right to be someone his country and his family could be proud of.

Fighting against the burn in his chest wasn’t something unfamiliar to him. What was another battle? What was another tier to scale with the blades under his feet? He could conquer everything.

For as long as he could remember, Yuri loved that feeling of invincibility once he stepped onto the ice. Out here he could _fly_. And at every lesson, every practice, with the culmination of his skills in a single performance, Yuri could count on his grandpa to watch him.

He had been the first to take Yuri to the outdoor rink when he was three-years-old. He’d bundled Yuri up, smiling with a promise that they’d have the time of their life. It was Yuri’s earliest memory, being held in his grandpa’s arms as they walked away from his mother and left her in the graying walls of their apartment.

There were endless days like that, but the older Yuri got and more interested he became to live a life on the ice, the less silent his mother was about it.

“ _Papa, get Yura back inside, he needs to focus on his studies. He’ll break something out there. No, we won’t give him lessons -- how could we afford it? Papa, stop being crazy, little boys do not grow up to dance. Yura, turn that ice skating off the TV this instant!_ ”

Yuri didn’t feel anything as clear-cut as love or dislike for his mother. But he _knew_ he loved his grandpa, and he saw the proud, delighted smiles he had whenever he watched Yuri skate. Yuri wanted to be able to provide as many smiles to his grandpa as possible -- maybe, if he tried hard enough, that kind of happiness and pride could reach his mother too. But, well, he never held his breath about it.

It was true though that lessons were beyond the family’s wallet, especially considering how ballet was recommended on top of skating. Yuri’s grandpa did his best to keep such worries from him, but even at a young age, Yuri came to understand well the value of money. Guilt would clench his stomach when his grandpa would come back from an overnight shift at his second job, but the only thing Yuri ever received was an encouraging smile.

Yuri vowed he would work twice -- no, _three_ times -- as hard as the rest of the children in his class. He’d stay behind at the rink after practices when his mother was supposed to pick him up and skate until he was caught by the Zamboni driver. Late at night when he was supposed to be sleeping, he practiced ballet, spinning and spinning, leaping off his bed and aspiring to be able to jump as high one day on ice.

* * *

Yuri was six when he first saw Viktor Nikiforov.

It was behind the screen of the living room’s television, the volume turned down low for his sleeping mother; she was always tired and bedridden these days. Earlier, he’d heard the older skaters in his class go on and on about a Viktor Nikiforov that would be performing at the European Championships.

Viktor Nikiforov looked unassuming, but he was _beautiful_ , and something in his eyes reflected a thousand times over on the ice. Yuri could understand just why Viktor’s name had been on everyone’s lips, tinged with such clear admiration. Viktor was perfectly coiled control and held a certain elegance to his power. Yuri couldn’t look away, and gasped out loud every time Viktor jumped, landing with such precision whenever Yuri thought he might fall.

 _So_ this _is a pro._ This _is what I have to teach myself to do…_ _Sooo freakin’ cool!_

His grandpa arrived home from work, barely hiding his weary sigh as he worked out the kinks in his shoulders.

“Yurochka? What’s that you’re watching there?”

“Grandpa! You just missed it!” Yuri leapt to his feet, waving his arms around in a fever as he tried to convey the _incredible_ performance he just witnessed. He ranted away, trying to re-enact Viktor’s quads by jumping off from the sofa and sliding his sock-covered feet over the wood floors.

“Even though he’s only eighteen, the big kid skaters in class said he was the best in Russia! Better than the adults!” How had Viktor done it? How hard did he train to have that kind of power and presence that made it look like he was one with the ice? How much harder would _Yuri_ have to work then? Somehow, it made him pumped up.

A hand ruffled through his short mop of hair. “Oh? Are you declaring your first rival?”

Yuri said with conviction, “I’m going to be like that one day, Grandpa! Just you wait, I’ll be the best skater -- in Russia, in the whole world!”

“I know you will,” his grandpa agreed with a large smile. His eyes held all of Yuri’s determination, nothing short of faith for his grandson. “You’ll go so far, my Yurochka. You’re already the best in your class, hands down.”

“And I’ll keep skating more and more! I’ll show you, okay? Even if Mama can’t see it.”

His grandpa went silent, his hand that had been patting Yuri’s back slowly coming to a stop. When he met Yuri’s eyes this time, his gaze held a mix of amazement and sadness, as if he couldn’t decide whether to apologize on Yuri’s mother’s behalf, or to have pride that Yuri was still fighting on despite her not being by his side.  

“You’re a tough one, Yurochka,” he finally murmured. “You never slip, on or off the ice. I can’t wait to see how much stronger you’ll become.” He tried getting up then, groaning at the pop of his bones. “Now let me make you some dinner. Growing boys need lots of good food.”

“Oh!” Yuri helped his grandpa up then scampered to the kitchen, pointing to the microwave. “I did it already! I heated up some stew all by myself!”

“All by your--?” His grandpa swept a bewildered gaze around the kitchen, seeing the evidence of poorly-peeled potatoes and chopped vegetables. “Uhh… You used a peeler and knife? I told you not to touch sharp things.”

Yuri held out his hands to show his fingers were still intact. “I didn’t! I used a butter knife!” It made peeling a heck of a lot more difficult, but he managed it in the end. His grandpa had also told him never to touch the stove, so Yuri had to make do with heating leftover meat and the broth in the microwave. He’d already stealthily left a bowlful in his mother’s room.

Yuri shuffled his feet, looking down. “Um, it doesn’t taste as good as yours, but…” But no matter what, Yuri had wanted to be able to surprise his dear grandpa who worked hard -- not only to provide for him, but also allow him to pursue his dreams. The least Yuri wanted to show was that he could learn to do all the same things that adults could do, like cooking dinner. He could even do things like provide money once he started winning competitions, that way his grandpa wouldn’t have to work so much, and he could spend more time at home with Yuri.

Yuri could be a man too.

The microwave door was opened and his grandpa pulled out one of the bowls of stew inside. He picked out a carrot and took a bite, smiling. “Heh, what’s this? My grandson is a prodigy in cooking as well as skating. What a lucky man I am.” He lifted Yuri up onto his stool, and together they ate their dinner in the warm kitchen with smiles on their faces.

* * *

Yuri always took risks.

If it came down to a matter of resources, Yuri wanted to get his hands on anything and everything. He moved his home rink to St. Petersburg. He made Viktor teach him what Yakov wouldn’t all the way until he left Russia.

If it was a matter his body changing, Yuri was still willing to skate everything in order to keep himself on the ice, even if he had to put his body right on the brink of shattering. He would be okay though. He was gradually becoming just as strong as the ice under his blades, and soon nothing would be able to break him.

And there had been plenty things that tried to break him over the years.

He was the only child in class who never talked about his mom or dad.

He skated three times as hard as everyone else, aiming to be better; he was elated and proud when he could bring another medal and some money back home. He was never allowed to settle for anything less than first place on pride alone; but his grandpa couldn’t work as much anymore with his bad back, which meant that Yuri was the main provider for them.

"You do such a good job, Yurochka," his grandpa praised after Yuri won gold at his second Junior Championship. "But I worry about you sometimes. You work so hard, and you're always with adults instead of playing. I'm worried your joy of skating might get away from you since you take care of the family."

"Don't worry, Grandpa. I can never hate skating. And I can never hate giving back to our family." In truth, he _wanted_ the responsibility. He wanted to prove that he could do this just like his grandpa could.

Because taking care of the family was Yuri’s duty now too. That was simply being unconditional to the ones you loved. Yuri Plisetsky was a skater that brought to the ice all the determination and hard work that he’d been shown by the most important person in his life.  

* * *

It never mattered who the other competition was. It didn’t matter how much experience they had. Yuri had a strength they didn’t. He had so much more to prove. Even if he was just an ill-tempered brat to them, he could still demonstrate his skill right in front of their eyes and wipe the ice with how they underestimated him.

Then came Yuuri Katsuki. Yuri had been intrigued by the skater for months, borderlining something like admiration. But he was still a rival. He was still the man that stole the heart of Russia’s pride. Yuri had said many bratty things to him and refused to acknowledge him by their shared name.

Still, after the Rostelecom Cup they somehow ended up standing together on the street, snow at their frozen feet, and fresh pirozhki warming their hands and stomachs. Yuri didn’t know what really made him offer the uniquely-katsudon-filled food to Yuuri. It was just that he couldn’t get the image of Yuuri standing alone on the ice out of his head, his legs shaking without Viktor physically there to support him.

Yuri knew what that was like, to feel left behind.

“You know, Yurio, you’re actually really nice.”

Mouth full of pirozhki, Yuri hung his jaw in shock. “ _Huh?_ ”

With a small laugh, Yuuri tapped under his chin to close Yuri’s mouth. “It’s true. When I saw you skate _Agape_ yesterday, I thought to myself,” his voice lowered, “that you didn’t simply find unconditional love and use it. That agape -- it’s something you already _were_. Y’know? Of course, I think you’re a lot of things. Angry, bratty things.”

“Hey--!”

“But then you finally brought it out on the ice. The you that knows what you skate for.”

For a long while, Yuri stared, speechless. Yuuri seemed equally embarrassed, but he held Yuri’s gaze steadily. Cheeks flushed, they both nibbled at their food, ignoring the rice sticking to their lips.

“It had to have been hard,” Yuuri finally said, sounding like he wanted to say more.

Yuri looked out at the cars driving below them, following their lights drift into the night. He thought of every factor that brought him to the final stage, and thought he wouldn't change any of it.

He shrugged, eating his pirozhki. He missed this taste immensely when he was travelling.

“It was worth it.”

* * *

After his first Grand Prix Final as a senior skater, gold medal in his hand, Yuri returned to Moscow. It didn’t matter for how brief a time, but he knew he had to visit. The anticipation jittered in his stomach, as if he were preparing for a quad Salchow.

The key was in his pocket, and there was immense satisfaction in holding it and hearing it slot itself perfectly into the lock.

_I don’t expect to be given any forgiveness for my life. I don’t expect any compensation to get back anything I might have lost. Katsudon was right. It’s not why I skate._

“Huh? Who’s that? Oh! Yurochka!”

 _There is a love I’ve always had that motivates me to fight the way I do_.

Yuri stepped into the apartment and smiled.

“I’m home, Grandpa!”

**Author's Note:**

> Since I wanted to focus the fic more on Yuri with his grandpa, I decided to keep what happened with his parents mostly ambiguous. I personally headcanon that he never knew his father, but he did know his mom enough to miss her presence (hence why he brought her up briefly in that flashback), so his mom was either distant or passed away. But you're free to interpret as you like! Tell me your Yurio family HC's! 
> 
> Feel free to read through my other YOI fics! You can also hmu on twitter @fuwajellyfish for a chat or to ask for a commission yourself :D


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